That Umbridge Sure Has a Head On Her Shoulders
by bluirinka
Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione get the chance to get revenge on that awful Umbridge. A bit of R/Hr. My entry for Gryffindor Tower's


A/N: Well, this is my entry for GT's "There Are Worse Things Than Death" Contest. The purpose was to get revenge on Umbridge, Kreacher, or Bellatrix. (grr evil people!) There were a few rules I had to follow...such as including a cockroach, the words 'Sup Figgy' and mentioning Dennis Creevey being shipped with the Giant Squid...but overall, I think it turned out okay. And if you like it enough to finish it, please oh please, will you review?!  
  
That Umbridge Sure Has a Head On Her Shoulders, by bluirinka...and that's bluirinka with a LOWERCASE B, got it? lol.  
  
"You know, I don't remember letting you out this morning," said the Fat Lady thoughtfully as her portrait swung forward to reveal the Gryffindor common room.  
  
Ron shrugged, heart hammering in his chest, and declined to tell the Fat Lady his previous whereabouts; spouting vengeful ideas for torture in the library before dawn did not sound like an acceptable explanation.  
  
Ron's fists clenched as he seethed at the memory of his off-topic discussion with his best friend. Nothing I can think of would do HER justice.  
  
"Ron?" came a voice from his left.  
  
Ron wheeled around to face a girl with bushy brown hair, who was cocking her head, hands on her hips, looking disapproving.  
  
He faltered. "I was…er…well. I was in the library."  
  
Hermione Granger raised her eyebrows. "Were you? Are you sure?"  
  
"Library," Ron repeated, irritated. Did she think he never read?  
  
Hermione chose not to comment on this information. "Well, then, are you ready for breakfast?"  
  
"Yes, I'm starving," said Ron without thinking. As Hermione strode past him towards the back of the Fat Lady's painting, Ron winced. Dolt! he accused himself. She already thinks that all you do is eat…  
  
He halted behind her as she paused to let the Fat Lady swing forward, then sensed something different about Hermione.  
  
"Hermione," he said slowly, "Are you wearing the perfume I gave you?"  
  
"What? Oh, yes," she said, turning to face him. Ron could have sworn she had flushed, but was too proud to prevent himself from asking, "Why?"  
  
"Oh. Well – oh, there are Harry and Ginny!" she pointed over his shoulder, grateful for the distraction.  
  
"Morning," Ginny said cheerfully. "Going down to breakfast?"  
  
"Yes," said Hermione, gesturing for Ginny to climb through to portrait hole ahead of her. Harry caught Ron's eye; he looked suspiciously tired.  
  
"Did you get in alright?" Harry asked in a low voice.  
  
"Fine," Ron muttered. "But I still haven't finished that essay for Binns."  
  
"We did get a little distracted," Harry admitted as they went through the portrait hole. "Might I ask why we needed to work on it at five thirty in the morning on a Saturday?"  
  
"I just wanted to show her that I could get my work done," Ron said stubbornly, refusing to meet Harry's eye, instead glancing at Hermione's unkempt hair a foot in front of him. His voice sank down into a whisper. "D'you know, she's wearing the perform I gave her last Christmas?"  
  
"Good on you," said Harry supportively. Ron continued to eye Hermione's back pensively as the four Gryffindor students continued on their trek to the Great Hall, where breakfast was served each morning. With one hallway to go, the four students rounded a corner, and suddenly Ginny stopped short right in front of Harry. He nearly ran into her, wondering as to the cause of such an abrupt pause in their journey to breakfast, but then he looked up and his insides ran cold.  
  
"Hello, Harry," Cho said tentatively. The group of Ravenclaws she was walking with looked at her oddly, then continued on to the Great Hall.  
  
"Cho," he said politely.  
  
"How – how have you been?"  
  
"Fine, thanks." Harry wished Ron would stop staring.  
  
"Well, I don't know if you'd heard, but I've – broken up with Michael," she said in a rush.  
  
"Fantastic," he said sarcastically.  
  
"So, I was wondering…I mean…would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me on Halloween?" She bit her lip, and Harry's attention was drawn to her face, particularly her conspicuously red eyes.  
  
"I thought we'd already tried that," said Harry, irritated.  
  
"Well," said Cho desperately, "I – I think it may have been what Cedric would have wanted – "  
  
"Cho, you are obviously not ready for another relationship," Ginny interrupted.  
  
Harry stared at the redheaded girl in front of him in awe. Cho turned slowly to face Ginny in disbelief, before gathering her composure enough to retort. "Who are you to tell me what I am and aren't ready for?" she demanded.  
  
Ginny put up her hands in defense. "Just the two Knuts of a neutral observer. You might not want to go for new guys if your boyfriend had just been killed is all I'm suggesting."  
  
Cho buried her face in her hands as she burst into tears, turning on a dime to run away, in the direction of what Harry knew to be a girls' bathroom.  
  
Hermione watched after Cho compassionately, but Ron had turned to gawk at his sister.  
  
"What?" Ginny snapped.  
  
"Well, aren't you the sassy one," he said, gaping at her.  
  
Ginny snorted, and she and Hermione strode briskly down the hallway into the Great Hall.  
  
"What was that all about?" Ron demanded from an equally stunned Harry.  
  
"No idea," Harry said, bewildered. They traced Hermione and Ginny's steps and seated themselves next to the two girls at the long Gryffindor table.  
  
Harry doubted that his backside had touched the bench before Hermione inquired, "Have you two finished the essay for Professor Binns yet?"  
  
Ron choked on the piece of omelet he had just shoveled into his mouth. "I reckon I'm nearly done," he said casually.   
  
Ginny let out an audible snort as Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Really. Last night you only had six inches, if my memory serves me correctly."  
  
"Yeah? Well, it just so happens I went down to the library this morning and wrote up another foot!" Ron snapped, blushing.  
  
Hermione's expression changed. "Really? You really did that?" she said uncertainly. She looked to Harry for confirmation, who nodded, which caused the brown-haired girl to break into a broad smile. "That's wonderful, Ron, I'm really proud of you."  
  
Ron's ears were a deeper red than the apple he had just picked up. "Well, thanks, Hermione, I – "  
  
"Ahem! Students!" came a ringing voice from the staff table. Harry looked up to see Professor McGonagall standing and calling the students to attention. When the Great Hall was finally silent, she announced:  
  
"Former Professor Dolores Umbridge will be returning today to pick those belongings that she unfortunately did not manage to take with her on her previous departure." Harry could have sworn that he saw the sides of Professor McGonagall's mouth turn up a bit before she continued. "I expect you all to treat her with courtesy, whether or not she deserves it. That is all."  
  
Ron turn to gawp at Harry. "That cow is coming back here? Doesn't she realize that she's about as welcome at Hogwarts as Aragog?"  
  
"She must miss those hideous kitten plates in her office," Ginny remarked acidly.  
  
"Or she really needs the rest of those doilies," Harry added.  
  
"I'm surprised she's coming within a hundred-foot radius of the centaurs," Hermione commented as she sipped her pumpkin juice.  
  
"But I'm telling you," Ron warned, "If I even lay eyes on that bullfrog face of hers, I can't be responsible for what I'll do to her."  
  
"We'll just have to try really hard not to see her," said Hermione grimly.  
  
"I don't want my day ruined," Ginny agreed, but then paused. "Unless we could contact Mundungus, have him drop off some under-the-counter Stinksap to spray her with…"  
  
"And we'd have to spend a half an hour interpreting his unintelligible Cockney," said Hermione. " 'Sup Figgy' indeed."  
  
Ginny laughed, before looking around at the choices for breakfast on the table, finally settling on a platter of sandwiches. "Oh, brilliant! It's peanut butter and jelly time!" she sang, before helping herself to four of the sandwiches.  
  
They finished breakfast and headed out of the Great Hall, where Harry, Ron and Hermione bid Ginny goodbye, as she was on her way to Care of Magical Creatures.  
  
"What are you studying today, anyway?" Hermione asked interestedly.  
  
"Actually, I think Hagrid was going to show us the magical properties of the Giant Squid," Ginny said genially.  
  
"Is Dennis in your class?" Ron asked mischievously.  
  
"No," said Ginny, clearly thinking Ron off his rocker. "He's two years below me, Ron." Shaking off Ron's question with a look that could only be described as 'whatever,' Ginny waved and walked outside.  
  
"What have we got now?" Harry strained to remember.  
  
"Transfiguration," Hermione responded at once.  
  
"Good old McGonagall," said Ron, thinking of her ingenious Umbridge comebacks. Then he sighed. "Too bad I've only managed to master the Switching Spell about five years late," he said regretfully.  
  
"Otherwise, you could have transplanted Hermione's head onto yours and pass some History of Magic tests a long time ago," said Harry with a grin.  
  
"Not like Binns would notice if Mr. Wembley and Miss Gardner were to end up with rather odd heads for their body types," said Hermione as they rounded a corner. Then she suddenly gasped, "Oh my!"  
  
Harry and Ron halted and surveyed the scene before them. What appeared to be a cockroach the size of a cat had apparently attacked a large bag that Argus Filch, the caretaker, was carrying, and split it evenly down its seams. The contents of the bag had spilled out across the deserted hallway, looking suspiciously frilly and girlish. Harry realized with a jolt that Filch must have cleared out Professor Umbridge's things from her office and tried to bring them downstairs, before the cockroach put a damper on his plans.  
  
"Ruddy cockroaches!" Filch yelled, his face a putrid purple. "And Dumbledore won't let me get any Roach Eradicator spray! Just because it causes those under the age of 25 to faint unconscious…that's what these brats need every now and then…"  
  
"Mr. Filch?" Hermione asked uncertainly.  
  
"What is it?" he growled.  
  
"Would you…like some help?" she said timidly. Harry and Ron stood by stupidly.  
  
"Go! Leave!" he commanded, and the three students were quite eager to step around the offending rubbish and leave Filch to sorting it out.  
  
"And now we're late for McGonagall," said Harry gloomily. They sped up and decided to take a shortcut through a passageway, though the sight that greeted them on its opening was more unpleasant than the one they had just left.  
  
None other than Professor Umbridge was sauntering down the hallway with a self-satisfied expression on her flabby, sagging face. Inexplicably, a small creature was struggling to keep up behind her, and it greatly resembled –   
  
"KREACHER!" Harry hollered.  
  
Umbridge wheeled around to face her former students. "Oh, Potter," she said. "I should have known that you would be acquainted with house-elves…"  
  
Harry's fists were clench, and he could feel Ron sharpen at his side. Hermione's face was the expression of the utmost loathing; Umbridge simply smiled sinisterly back at them, while Kreacher grinned at Harry. "You shamed my mistress, and Kreacher keeps her honor…" he murmured.  
  
"What's that, elf?" Umbridge said distractedly. Truthfully, Harry did not know whom he wanted to pummel.  
  
"So, how many people have you lot murdered today?" said Ron in a clipped tone. "Do you sit down in front of the fire at the end of the day and total it all up together?" His voice rose dangerously with every word.  
  
"I know not what you are talking about, Weasley," Umbridge smiled patronizingly. "Now, if I could only locate my things, I could be out of your company in no time at all…"  
  
"Mr. Filch has them," Hermione supplied.  
  
"What's that?" said Umbridge, swiveling to cast her eye upon Hermione.  
  
"Mr. Filch," Harry repeated. "He put them in a bag for you, but on the way to the Entrance Hall, a giant cockroach split it open and he had to put it all together again."  
  
No one spoke.  
  
"It is such a shame, Mr. Potter," said Umbridge, "That a person with such good blood as yourself would be so insane. I can't imagine why the company you keep chooses to listen to your maniacal stories. Indeed, a ragamuffin and a Muggle are hardly an example of good friends you'd want to reflect upon yourself…"  
  
"You're one to talk, wandering around with the likes of that," said Ron in fury.  
  
"You cannot possibly believe that this elf is following me around without reason," Umbridge said sweetly.  
  
"Why've you got that elf with you, then?" Harry demanded.  
  
Umbridge cocked her head. "My dear Mr. Potter, you do not seriously expect a Senior Ministry member such as myself to haul her own luggage across the country? That is what we have servants for, child…though those may be familiar only to those with decent funds…" she added, eyeing Ron disdainfully.  
  
"Shame of my ancestors!" Kreacher whispered gleefully.  
  
Ron and Harry leapt with a roar. Harry did not even know what hexes he was casting, but after a moment he heard Hermione join in behind him and was amazed at the terribleness of the curses she was spouting. Kreacher, with no wand, hardly put up a fight, and it only took a few curses to leave the horrible Umbridge lying horizontally.  
  
Panting, the three sixth-years stood up to scrutinize their handiwork. The boils, hair in odd places and gashes were hardly the worst of what made Hermione gasp.  
  
Umbridge's rotund, flabby body did not bear her equally rotund and flabby head. And Kreacher's thin, starved frame did not accompany the familiar snout. Rather, the house-elf's head was perched on the former Defense Against the Dark Arts' shoulders, and vice versa.  
  
"Good thing I managed that Switching Spell," said Ron indifferently.  
  
"I rather think the old goat looks better this way," said Harry. "Imagine how many more dates she'll get with Kreacher's mug."  
  
"Imagine," said Ron, slapping his knees, "Now she's a part-human!"  
  
"But I just can't wait," Hermione concluded, "Until her head goes up on the wall-plaque at Grimmauld Place with all Kreacher's ancestors'…"  
  
A/N: I hope that was sufficient Umbridge revenge for you...slipped Kreacher in there too...anyway, if you glance down a couple lines, there'll be a window that says "Submit Review." I would *really* appreciate it if anyone who read this would leave their two cents...er, Knuts. If you liked it, if you hated, it whatever, please, please review!  
  
Looove,  
  
Renee! 


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